


where you revolve around me

by tagteamme



Series: has anyone checked the mail (prompts) [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (if you squint), -taps mic- hi hello...i am here to talk about how in love i am with keith and shiro's love, Hand Kink, M/M, Mouth Kink, Romance, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-21
Updated: 2017-11-21
Packaged: 2019-02-05 01:21:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12783858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tagteamme/pseuds/tagteamme
Summary: Keith has a thing for Shiro’s hands. Shiro has a thing for Keith’s mouth. It all comes together rather nicely.





	where you revolve around me

**Author's Note:**

> [silkshiro](https://silkshiro.tumblr.com) left a lot of good suggestions in my ask, but I eyezoomed to the phrase "Keith with a hand-kink" and decided to snowball in some headcanons and whatever.

 

For Keith, it starts when a large hand engulfs his in a firm handshake. Shiro’s welcoming him to the Garrison, as if Keith’s a new recruit and not someone plucked out of their misery by their only friend and put on a more productive path in life.

The formality only lasts a few seconds before Keith finds himself being yanked forward into an all-encompassing hug. He does not forget the feeling of sure and protective fingers first curling around his palm, then around the nape of his neck.

 

* * *

 

Shiro realizes it a while later when he’s standing in front of a large shuttle, one hand on Keith’s shoulder and the other gesturing towards his home for the next couple of years. 

Keith’s as excited as he is; they’re both brimming with the fact that Shiro’s about to shoot towards the outer reaches of their solar system. Keith pretends to be cranky that he’s not coming along, even though in reality he’s never been more proud of Shiro. Shiro makes a shitty, lame joke under his breath about having to share close living quarters with the Holts, and Keith snorts instead of laughing like a regular human being. It makes Shiro break out into a genuine peal of laughter, and soon Keith’s joining him. It’s one of the more nonsensical moments they’ve shared together. Shiro realizes that he likes the way Keith’s mouth shapes around the sounds he makes, and wants to taste it.

Shiro thinks about it a lot the morning of the launch. He thinks about how long he’ll be gone for, and how he’s had a recurring dream about their shuttle falling apart as it pierces through the sky.

When Keith comes to see him off, Shiro pulls him into a private corner and mutters a low confession and a promise before kissing Keith senseless. He memorizes how Keith’s lips press against his, how they rush to pour out as much love as they can before Shiro’s propelled into the great unknown. His hand creeps up to cup Keith’s cheek, and he shifts his thumb to finally break apart their kiss, pressing it against Keith’s mouth. Keith’s lips part a little to let the tip in. This is what constantly plays in Shiro’s head as the rocket breaks through the atmosphere.

 

* * *

 

In the quiet of the night, Keith slides out the photo of Shiro in his uniform from its frame. It’s got _IN MEMORIAM_ written in garish golden letters across the bottom, and Keith giddily takes a lighter to it. There are no words to describe the joy that comes from burning the memorial photograph of the man currently sleeping on his futon.

The three others have passed out in the living room, while Keith watches over Shiro. He had wanted to kick them out, had wanted to tell them to get lost, but they had showed as much determination in saving Shiro as he did, so for now he is allowing them to stay. Anyways, he’s too tired to play school bus and get them back to the Garrison.

The smell of smoldering paper fills the room and Keith dumps the charring image into the trash, stepping on it to kill the flames. There’s a groan beside him; the smell seems to have woken Shiro up because Keith catches him giving a blank look. There’s something distant and troubled in his gaze and he’s completely rigid. Keith panics for a moment. He doesn’t know what to do, so he tenses like an animal, waiting for Shiro to move through whatever nightmare he’s in.

Shiro had been awake once earlier, when they had hauled him off Keith’s hoverbike and had brought him into the shack. He had rambled something about aliens and spaceships and an imminent attack, and the other three had been slightly scared. Keith was still riding high on the fact that he had gotten Shiro back so he easily fed Shiro a small meal, got him water, and put him to bed.

Now, Keith’s a little more unsure. He is also ready to help Shiro in whatever way he needs. He just needs to figure out how.

They stare at each other for a tense moment before Shiro’s body suddenly and very visibly relaxes.

“Keith,” he says, voice raspy, and the tension starts to drain from Keith.

Keith grabs a water bottle off the desk and slowly approaches Shiro. He takes a seat on the edge of the bed, and presses the mouth of the bottle to Shiro’s lips. He drinks greedily before pushing Keith’s hand away and pulling in a gasp. Keith hovers near him, waiting. A hand raises up and weaves through Keith’s hair.

The metal is cold against Keith’s scalp and he leans into the touch. Keith doesn’t know where this prosthetic has come from yet, and doesn’t want to think about why Shiro’s lost an arm to begin with. Instead, he focuses on Shiro, who looks a little lost and a little awed. The hand’s as big as Shiro’s real one, and is just a little heavier. Shiro uses it like he’s had it for a while, but he looks unsure about touching Keith. Keith rests into it.

“You trust it,” he breathes, sliding it down to cup Keith’s face. Keith nods. 

“It’s you,” he says, turning his head to kiss the synthetic palm. “Of course I do.”

 

* * *

 

Shiro wants to curl into Keith and sleep for a thousand years, but instead he finds himself getting thrown around in the cockpit of a seemingly sentient robot lion.

A wormhole opens, and panic floods Shiro’s system. Blinding purple light washes through as the lion pierces through the opening. Shiro has his human hand in an iron grip on Keith’s shoulder, and Keith’s lips are pressed together in a thin white line. Briefly, Shiro selfishly thinks about the small kiss they shared before they reentered the shack. Keith had told him there’d be time for more later, and Shiro prays that there is.

They are not captured; instead, they are heralded in as a new generation of fighters in a battle way beyond their scope of understanding. 

Their first few nights are chaos. They retrieve all the lions, and get thoroughly battered in the process. Keith’s is the toughest; he gets thrown into space and saved right in the nick of time by his lion. it’s the last piece to the puzzle; the black lion wakes. Shiro tries to miss Earth, and thinks of how he woke up on an operating table in quarantine. This is somehow better. 

After Keith gets his lion, Shiro pulls Keith into his room. Keith’s tired, but Shiro doesn’t want to push him for anything. He wants to go to sleep with the weight of Keith warm and safe beside him. 

Keith agrees, going pliant against Shiro as soon as he pulls up the sheets. In the dim green glow of the room, Shiro traces Keith’s lips with a metal finger while Keith’s eyes struggle to stay open. Keith parts his mouth in a silent request that Shiro is more than happy to fulfill. He presses a light kiss to Keith’s mouth, trapping his thumb in between them. Keith pushes forward, trying to deepen the kiss. Under Shiro’s hands, Keith’s body feels lithe, tempting, and heavy with exhaustion. 

He rolls them so he’s hovering over Keith and can temper his growing enthusiasm.

“You need rest,” Shiro says gently and Keith frowns.

“I went a year without you,” he says. “Sleep can wait.”

Shiro wants to retort, wants to take a firm stand. All he can do is look at the way Keith’s lower lip sticks out a little. He leans down to kiss him and Keith hums happily as he shifts a hand around Shiro’s bicep.

In the end, Keith’s exhaustion wins out like Shiro predicted it would. He curls towards Shiro as they lay side by side, pulling Shiro’s head against his chest in a sleepily protective gesture. Shiro lets a lazy arm flop over Keith’s waist and all things said and done, this has been the widest streak of luck Shiro has had in a year.

 

* * *

 

They fight and they train and they fight and fight and fight. The princess makes for a tough commander, admirably so, and they are put through their paces daily. Shiro uncovers more memories of his year in captivity, and channels the rage and pain into leading Voltron into as many victories as possible. Keith feels like he’s pushed in ways he’s never even fathomed, but Shiro’s by his side and before he drifts to off sleep, he often thinks of how they are making a new home amongst the stars.

They share Shiro’s room in the night, laying together in their own little world, cocooned by the darkness. During the day they fly missions and try to get a grasp of the world they are now a part of, and are bone tired by the time they go back to their quarters.

Keith should be happy that he’s getting any time alone with Shiro, any sort of physical contact, even if it’s as small as a kiss. Despite all this, the fire curling within him is begging for more. He’s unsure how to ask Shiro, and if he should ask at all—regardless of what Keith wants, he’s ready to acquiesce if Shiro’s not on board, if Shiro’s not ready.

Keith watches one morning as Shiro explains his plan of action, gesturing to the holographic maps. He turns to Keith for affirmation, placing a hand on Keith’s shoulder. Keith nods in agreement to whatever Shiro says because Shiro’s hands are large and warm and curl around Keith’s shoulder a little. Keith sneaks a quick glance at calloused fingers, wondering how they would feel around him. He wants to memorize them with his mouth and let them mark him in whatever way Shiro feels he deserves.

While Allura starts speaking, Shiro’s hand drifts down Keith’s back and circles his wrist, squeezing gently. In that moment, Keith realizes that he can ask Shiro to lay him out thoroughly, and resolves to do so as soon as possible. He formulates a plan of action and thinks of three different contrived scenarios in which he can sneak Shiro away in the middle of training. Shiro runs his thumb in circles over the heel of Keith’s palm, and Keith thinks of two more.

He finds an opening two days later, when Coran suggests they take an earlier night than usual. Keith immediately focuses on herding Shiro into their room. He waits for Shiro to get ready for bed and recline on the mattress before he slides one leg over him and settles down on his lap.

“I’m not tired,” he states in the most matter of fact way possible, immediately fielding any questions Shiro might have.

Shiro, clearly knowing what’s good for him, just grins. Keith leans forward to kiss it off his face. Once he feels Shiro fully relaxed and eager underneath him, Keith deepens the kiss and flattens his body against Shiro’s. Shiro’s hands immediately grab at him and flips them over with a bruising grip. He slides a hand under Keith’s lower back and lifts, turning the pace instantly frenetic.

Keith yanks down their pants while Shiro nips at his jaw, determined to still exert some control. Shiro rolls their hips together, causing Keith to scrunch his eyes shut and let out a hoarse moan.

“They’ll hear us,” Shiro says and Keith scoffs, shaking his head. “We don’t know how the sound will travel.”

Keith’s about to tell Shiro that it doesn’t matter, that it’ll never matter, but Shiro brings a hand up to Keith’s mouth to quieten him. Keith lets out a sound protest, muffled against Shiro’s palm, but works on kicking off the rest of his pants. He manages to get one leg fully off, but the other dangles off his ankle as Shiro uses his hand to pin Keith down as he grinds down again, mattress gently creaking underneath them.  Keith goes cross-eyed at the pressure.

Keith’s already on the edge when Shiro eases up and he gets a chance to look down between them. Shiro’s big; everything about the man is big, and Keith knows he shouldn’t be surprised. Keith’s taut like a wire and is so, so close—

Shiro wraps a large and capable hand around them, working both of them at the same time and Keith _loses_ it.

 

* * *

 

Shiro finds himself crashed on a foreign planet, sides clawed out and the gravitational pull strong enough to make him feel like he’s moving with a demon on his back.

There are two things working in his favour; the atmospheric composition is that of Earth’s, so when a beast knocks his helmet off, Shiro’s lungs don’t melt or collapse. The second thing is that Keith is hurtling towards him, hell bent on saving him. Shiro’s filled with wonder when Keith brings Black to rescue him, and very little surprise.

Shiro talks pragmatically, talks like a leader should, and Keith rails back with hot headed indignation and insistence that nothing will happen to Shiro. Shiro wants to tell him that he knows, that he feels the safest when Keith’s at his side, and that he’s only ensuring they are secured regardless of what the future brings. Shiro wants to tell him that Keith holds his life in his hands and there is no one else Shiro trusts more so to do.

Instead, he fondly looks at Keith as the light of the green lion breaks the dusk.

Shiro spends a considerable amount of time in the healing pod, his skin stitching itself back together and his blood trying its best to purify itself. They converge and draw up their next plan of action. Shiro is still internally reconciling with the amount of newfound energy the pods have given him. He’s glad he doesn’t have the repercussions of physical trauma to deal with but he’s nervous that might make the team more reckless, and he’s unsure whether this works to their advantage or not.

When they’re done, he hangs back in the control room to stare at the vast expanse of space that stretches in front of him. Shiro’s adaptable, quick to understand his surroundings; a year in captivity has branded that trait into him with a hot iron. But there is still some flicker of boyish wonder within him that he tries his best to protect. He stares at distant stars, and wonders if he’ll ever truly be able to truly fathom that this is his life now.

Keith joins him in the control room, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. Sometimes Shiro dreams that he is still alone, that Keith never made it across the universe with him. In that aspect, reality seems to treat Shiro slightly better. Keith talks to him, low and familiar and Shiro makes a faint attempt to disguise the hunger that starts to grow as he watches his lips move. Keith notices. Keith’s good at figuring out what Shiro wants.

As soon as the door of their room slides shut, Keith crowds Shiro up against the bed. He makes him sit down before sliding one of his knees in between his legs and pressing his palms against his chest, pushing him flat down on the bed. He rucks up Shiro’s shirt and leaves biting kisses down his torso, only allowing Shiro to sit up when Keith’s head is between his legs.

It’s clumsy at first but Keith’s always been a quick learner. Shiro finds himself flushed, trying his best to keep himself together as Keith’s lips grow slick.

Shiro thumbs the corner of Keith’s mouth and Keith pushes forward till his nose is pressed against Shiro’s skin. Keith looks like he’s struggling to remain in control by the way his nails scratch at desperately at Shiro’s thighs. Keith pulls Shiro’s hand away so he can curl their fingers together and press them into the mattress.

Shiro bites his knuckles and tries not move, tries his best to not make Keith’s voice hoarse for days.

“Fuck,” he breathes reverently and when Keith looks up at him with his mouth still full, Shiro comes apart.

 

* * *

 

Keith puts up a strong façade but he wants to do nothing but dissolve into his bed and pretend that the essence of who he is hasn’t just been laid bare and that he hasn’t just dug up a box of questions he had long buried deep within himself. 

_Knowledge or death. Knowledge or death._

An alien civilization who could jump through wormholes while humans were starting to farm, and they still see everything in absolutes.

“They’re fighting a war,” Shiro offers as an answer, and Keith groans into his pillow as Shiro gently kneads strong fingers down his back. 

They’re in Keith’s room with Keith spread shirtless on his belly, hands folded under his pillow. Shiro hovers above him, one knee planted on each side, trying not to put his full weight on Keith as he works out the tension thrumming under Keith’s skin. Keith has done time in the healing pod, but fatigue has nested itself deep within him. It may have as much to do with the trials as it has to do with the team’s reactions to finding out there’s some part of Keith that’s Galra. He doesn’t want to dwell on it, but he’s not a sullen loner living alone in the desert anymore, and he has to come face to with face them on a regular basis whether they can stomach him or not. 

Shiro digs his thumbs into Keith’s shoulder blades and pushes them in circles. Keith feels liquid and can’t help but arch his back slightly.

“Hey,” Shiro admonishes gently, pressing Keith back down by the nape of his neck. “Down.”

“Shut up,” Keith says in return and he can feel the vibrations of Shiro chuckling above him.

Shiro’s here at Keith’s request. Sort of. 

Keith has already tried wallowing alone, and had managed to work himself up to the appropriate levels of self-doubt when there had been a soft knock at the door. It had been Shiro, and Keith had been ready to turn him away. But he saw Shiro’s clenched fists betraying his gentle tone, and knew Shiro was almost as tense as he was. Keith let him in on the condition that Shiro would make it worth both their while.

Shiro is currently making good on it, thoroughly so as he runs a warm and steady palm down Keith’s back, before smoothing it upwards and running fingers through Keith’s hair. He presses into Keith’s scalp, scratching the skin lightly. Keith can’t stop thinking about how capable his fingers feel. Keith has to work to keep himself quiet as they wind through his hair and tug gently.

Shiro’s human hand skims down Keith’s side, and grabs a hold of Keith. The fingers wrap around Keith’s hip and squeeze before sliding in between Keith and the mattress, splaying across Keith’s stomach. Shiro’s hands are big enough that his fingers easily brush over the top of Keith’s groin from where they rest. Keith feels the callouses on the palm, the toughness of the skin and silently tries to urge it to shift downwards.  It’s starting to make Keith’s head spin and he presses his body down, hoping Shiro will get the hint.

“Feeling better?” Shiro hums instead, and removes the hand. Keith kind of wants to kick him, kind of wants to flip them over so that Shiro can start touching Keith the way Keith’s starting to want.

“A little,” Keith admits briefly, but truthfully. If he tries to elaborate, the warm and pliant feeling he has will harden into something frigid again. He knows he has a lot to think about and a lot to find out about himself, on top of the responsibilities he shoulders as a paladin.

For now, he wants to forget that, and instead focus on the two hands that have landed tentatively on his shoulders. He waits to get flipped over, to come face to face with Shiro.

It doesn’t happen.

Instead, Shiro starts working on Keith’s shoulders. And while it feels amazing, there is electricity crackling within Keith now that he can’t ignore.

“Shiro,” he begs, but Shiro’s quiet above him, tracing over where the trials had gotten Keith the worst. Keith can feel the repetitive run of a finger over where there’s a white knitted scar, one that would have taken more time to heal in the pod than Keith cares for. It makes him squirm a little and when Shiro presses down on it, Keith blurts out a question.

“Do you think they’re right in not trusting me?” Keith asks, and Shiro freezes. “Because I’m Galra?”

There’s silence for a moment, and Keith feels himself steadily being dragged back into the grey sludge of doubt he had been feeling all day. But he feels the warmth of Shiro’s body envelop him, and he feels the fabric of Shiro’s shirt pressed against his back. Shiro places a gentle kiss on the back of Keith’s neck.

“Of course not,” he says gently, twisting Keith over by the shoulder so they can see each other eye to eye. Keith tries to turn his whole body over, but Shiro decides to finally rest his weight down and trap Keith. “You’re still you.”

Shiro leans in to finally kiss him, drawing out one of his hands from under the pillow to pin it by the wrist to the mattress. Keith only makes it onto his back when Shiro lets him, when Shiro’s fingers are hooked deep within him, when he’s too weak to move by himself anyways.

He feels a little better.

 

* * *

 

As a reward for delivering a crushing blow to Zarkon, Shiro wakes up a prisoner yet again. The elation of victory twists into sour surprise as he realizes he has been transported right into the hands of his former captors. They stand over him, looming and gleeful that they’ve recaptured the Champion. Shiro has more to go back to than he ever has before, but the Galra are still determined to break his fighting spirit and test the limits of his will to survive.

Shiro braces himself.

 

* * *

 

Keith combs and combs and combs.

In the depths of the night, he tries his best to relax and curls his own hand around himself. He tries to pretend, tries to cope, but his anger and shame and loss burn too bright within him.

 

* * *

 

Their love for each other is etched into their bones like a protective spell. That, Shiro thinks faintly as the jaws of the black lion swallows him up, is how the universe keeps drawing them back from the brink of death and propelling them towards each other.

For the first few nights of his return, Shiro sleeps alone. He’s emotionally bed-ridden, a heavy weight seated on his chest preventing him from facing the others. Weariness settles in Shiro and traps him; he tries his best to fight against it and come up for air.

Coran comes somewhat regularly to administer medicine and to tell Shiro a light hearted tale of the team goofing up while he was gone. Keith is the only other person Shiro lets into the room, and he helps Coran in silence. When Coran leaves, Keith lingers back to stand at the foot of Shiro’s bed. He leans against the wall and gently talks to Shiro, gently prodding at him to find out what state he’s in.

Despite his run as the Black Paladin hitting as many bumps as possible, Keith’s standing a little taller and a little surer of himself. He keeps his distance physically, but Shiro knows Keith’s doing it for him till he heals fully. Emotionally, Keith still orbits as close to Shiro as ever and it makes Shiro sleep a little easier.

 

* * *

 

They fight. They clash over how to lead Voltron. His second stint in captivity has hardened his eyes, has driven a strange sense of volleying urgency and inertia into Shiro, and Keith’s learning how to work with it.

Throughout this, they still remain each other’s constant. Shiro never hides the fact that he unequivocally believes in Keith, and Keith in turn never hesitates to look at him with naked devotion.

As soon as Shiro’s comfortable enough to share a bed again with Keith, Keith drops any pretenses of ever wanting it any other way. They argue about something stupid during the day and he curls over Shiro in the night, protective as Shiro gently protests his inevitable octopus hug.

It only takes a few more days for Shiro to be comfortable enough to touch Keith, to slide his hand under his shirt and pull him into a biting kiss. Keith will be honestly content if Shiro never wants anything again, as long as he stands safe beside Keith. But he can appreciate the hunger with which Shiro pulls him on top and kisses him. Keith presses his lips against the crook of Shiro’s jaw and sucks a mark as the arms wrapped around him turn their grip into iron. 

Shiro leans and whispers a request to Keith, who nods and lets himself be manhandled and flipped over. His back presses against a broad chest and Shiro leans in to bite Keith’s shoulder. He wraps a large hand around his throat while his other one rests on Keith’s hip, holding him steady. Shiro stops Keith from pulling down their sleeping clothes to get skin on skin contact.

“Not now,” he whispers into Keith’s ear, squeezing the hand around his throat. He ruts up against him, and Keith’s slowly losing control over his own body.

Keith can feel some of Shiro’s bitterness seep through, but he knows it’s directed towards the universe for what it’s put him through, and not him. He thinks that when they eventually get down to it, Shiro will act like he did the first few weeks they started becoming intimate; hesitant, gentle, and extremely controlled.

Instead, Shiro pushes Keith off him, before rolling onto his knees and sitting back. He yanks Keith’s legs roughly towards himself, Keith automatically wrapping them around Shiro as he settles Keith’s lower half on his lap.

Shiro runs a palm up Keith’s thigh, his hand stuttering for a moment before he starts to edge Keith’s boxers down. Shiro pauses midway, falling into thought, and Keith gives him a questioning look.

“I feel angrier this time,” Shiro says softly, and Keith reaches up. Shiro leans forward, and Keith cups his face. “And it won’t leave me. I keep trying.”

“It’s natural,” Keith replies, running his fingers through the shock of white in Shiro’s hair. He doesn’t have an adage to offer because he’s definitely not the best with dealing with emotions. He tries though, and he knows Shiro tries harder. 

Shiro doesn’t reply, but he closes his eyes against the touch. They remain like that for a moment, before Keith shifts a little and Shiro’s eyes shoot open.

“You can do whatever you want,” Keith says, squeezing his legs gently around Shiro’s waist. “Whatever makes you happy.”

Shiro looks contemplative, so Keith raises his calf and rests it on Shiro’s shoulder. Shiro turns his head to kiss it, and Keith murmurs something low, something that gives Shiro a sharp glint in his eyes.

Keith eventually finds himself on his stomach, struggling to remain coherent as Shiro works him raw. He’s given up any attempts to prop himself up on his elbows and instead flattens out on the mattress, blindly grasping at the sheets. Shiro’s nowhere as gentle as he normally is, and Keith takes it as a small victory.

“Shh,” Shiro says, voice breathless but gentle, belying the way he mercilessly moves in Keith. “We don’t want anyone else to hear.”

Keith responds by only barely trying to muffle his voice into the pillow, legs shaking as he pants Shiro’s name. Shiro yanks up his head by the hair before using the same hand to cup his chin. Cool metal tips press insistently against Keith’s mouth, and he parts to let them in down to the last knuckle. Keith’s never felt so full, and Shiro’s trying to quieten him, despite being the reason behind the noise.

He bites down hard on the fingers and the reward he gets shakes the bed.

 

* * *

 

Despite the overwhelming pride he has in him, Shiro also misses Keith something fierce. Keith’s going on increasingly longer missions with the Blades, and decides to join them fully once Shiro has regained control of Black.

Shiro lets him go, catching the way Keith’s face falls before he leaves the team. He knows that Keith is becoming a fighter competent beyond his wildest dreams, but his heart still feels a painful pull when he lays alone in their room.

They talk through a video feed in the castle’s main command, coordinating both Voltron and the Blades to figure out the best plan of attack. The feed stays on as the team empties out of the room, and Keith updates Shiro on his training. He gives Shiro a soft, private smile, and Shiro misses him something fierce.

One night as Shiro tucks in, his tablet lights up. He squints, the bright blue blaring in the dark of the room, and sees that it’s Keith calling him. He scrambles to answer, and comes face to grainy face with a tired but smiling Keith.

“Finally figured out how to do this,” Keith says in lieu of a greeting. “Sucks not having Pidge around.”

“Sucks not having you around,” Shiro replies, turning up the brightness of the tablet. His Altean is still scratchy, so the tablet honks loudly at him instead and Shiro nearly drops it while Keith laughs.

“I’ve been watching your shows,” Keith says as Shiro finally finds the brightness. The light hurts his eyes, but he’s able to see Keith better. He sits up, propping himself up against the wall and tries to blink the sleep away.

“Yeah?” Shiro asks, going slightly pink. “What do you think?”

“The Blades find it hilarious,” Keith says and Shiro gives him a flat look. “I’m not joking.”

“I didn’t know they had a sense of humour,” Shiro says dryly and Keith rolls his eyes.

Keith tells Shiro about the new fighting techniques he’s learned, while Shiro updates him on the team and how things feel a little lighter now that Pidge has found Matt. The case of her missing father still remains, but the sibling’s reunion has elevated the team’s mood. Keith complains about the food the Blades feed him, but insists that it’s still better than half the things Coran has ever has made.

Keith chews his lip and he notices Shiro noticing. Keith grins, and Shiro looks away. 

“I miss you,” Keith says, getting Shiro’s attention back on the screen. His smile has fallen into something softer now, and Shiro dully aches with the need to taste it.

“I miss you too,” he says quietly in return, “All the time.” 

He pulls the tablet closer to him, and Keith visibly perks. The sound is tinny, but Shiro can hear a small commotion in the background. Worry flashes through Shiro momentarily, but Keith rolls his eyes and looks back at the screen.

“They’re arguing over something they watched,” He relays back to Shiro. “Hey, maybe it’s one of your videos.”

“Shut up,” Shiro says and Keith snorts.

Their conversation winds down and Shiro wants to tell Keith to be safe. Shiro wants to tell Keith to be careful, that he believes in him but he also wants him to come back. But he watches Keith’s eyes when he gives him a soft “I love you,” before they hang up, and he knows that Keith already knows.

 

* * *

 

Keith lets his head rest against the ledge of the bath, the cool ceramic tile welcome against his scalp. The water is warm and is doing an excellent job of soothing his muscles and clearing his mind.

He’s not tired, not in the least. The rush of barreling towards death is still coursing through him; he is trying his best to come back down and to come to terms with still being alive. He looks up, sees stars flicker through the curved glass ceiling, and wonders for the hundredth time what omnipotent force has decided to live its life through his eyes.

After Naxzela, Kolivan had felt it best to converge with the paladins in person. Keith had been met with a barrage of words and beating fists from his teammates, who had been filled in through Matt what exactly Keith had been about to sacrifice.

They had descended upon him with a mix of insults and _how could you_ ’s and _if you try that again, I’m going to resurrect you specifically to kill you again with my own bare hands._ Keith understood where their anger came from, that they were as upset that Keith hadn’t _told_ them. Still, Keith was grateful that Shiro had put an end to it by barking out a stern “Enough!”, effectively shutting up the rest of the team.

“Choosing death is never easy,” Shiro had said, voice commanding enough to cause the others to straighten up. “But he had done it to save us. We should be thankful he was stopped from following through.”

That first brought around silence, before Hunk burst into tears and the rest had followed suite. Keith ended up enveloped in a group hug, while Shiro stood off to the side with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Eventually, they had found themselves alone in the control room once again, and Shiro had taken that moment to approach Keith. Keith had thought he would have been in for a lecture, a scolding about being reckless that Shiro was politely putting a lid on till everyone had been gone. Instead, he found himself drawn into a hug, Shiro tucking his head into the crook of Keith’s neck.

“If you died,” Shiro’s voice cracked and Keith had been able to feel the strength of his grip through his suit. “It’d break me completely.”

“I know,” Keith had replied softly. _You’ve learned how I feel._

Now, Keith watches the water gently lap around him, shimmering an unnaturally blue colour from the lights at the bottom of the circular bath. Allura had told him and Hunk about this room, and how there were five others like this throughout the ship. Keith would be lying if he says that this bath isn’t one of the main reasons he has decided to stay back on the Castle for a few nights while the next battle plans are drawn up.

The bath looks more like a jacuzzi, jets and all. When Hunk had mentioned that to Allura, she had been hung up for a good tick about how hilarious the word jacuzzi sounded. The first time Keith had dipped in it, it had felt like heaven. Through the dome-like window, he had seen the fluorescent pink and blue nebulae the castle was passing from a distance and he hadn’t left till his fingers were completely pruned.

Keith sinks down further, his chin touching the water as he closes his eyes. He can still hear a barrage of voices and orders ring through his ears, and he thinks of red light washing over him. He feels none of what he had felt when piloting himself to a certain end; instead, relief tides through him something fierce. 

When he closed his eyes at Naxzela, he had tried to conjure his happiest memories, his proudest moments, anything that would tell him that he had lived life as much as he could within the time he was given. But Keith was unable to form the face of his team, of Shiro, of any of the Blades. He had barely been able to trace the shapes of his absent parents. Instead, like a lurid and incessantly bright neon light, one thought overshadowed the rest: _I don’t want to die_.

Kolivan had told him that if a Blade was to die, it had to be meaningful, otherwise it was a poor loss of a cherished life. Keith knows that the sacrifice had immense weight, had meaning, but faintly thinks it’s maybe normal to be relieved that he didn’t have to give up his life.

Keith thinks that underneath it all, he still has a small thread of childish cowardice wrapped around his heart that no amount of training with an elite resistance force will snap. He isn’t going to admit it to anyone, isn’t going to pick at the frayed threads of the moment and willingly unravel himself. He comforts himself with the truth that if he’s in a situation like Naxzela again, he’ll still sacrifice his life, regardless of what he actually feels.

There’s a soft knock at the door, and Keith calls out a “Who’s it?” even though there’s only one person who would be seeking him at this hour.

“Can I come in?” Shiro asks from the other side of the door, and Keith is heavily tempted to deny him access and continue enjoying the solitude.

“Yeah,” Keith calls out. “Enter.”

The door slides open and Shiro walks in, dressed for bed with a towel slung around his shoulder. 

“Wanna join?” Keith asks, and Shiro shakes his head. 

“I’m good,” He says, dumping the towel in an unceremonious pile in the corner of the room, and Keith realized he had forgotten to bring his own.

“Thanks,” Keith says, nodding towards the towel, and Shiro stays silent. He walks around the rim of the bath, before sitting down on Keith’s right. Shiro pauses, then seems to somewhat change his mind. He rolls up the legs of his sleeping pants and slides forward to edge, dipping his feet into the water.

“Feels nice,” Shiro says, and Keith hums in agreement. He leans his head against Shiro’s calves, and Shiro runs a hand absently through Keith’s hair.

Keith can feel Shiro’s tension leak through, can feel his worry and his weariness in the way he’s holding himself on the tiles. Keith doesn’t know how to break the silence. Instead, he closes his eyes and melts into the touch, enjoying the rolling pressure of the massage. Eventually, Shiro speaks. 

“Glad to have you back,” He whispers, barely audible.

“Glad to be back,” Keith murmurs, low and relaxed as Shiro’s fingers continue working across his scalp.

Keith thinks of Shiro hugging him in the control room, and how he drew back, attempting to look stoic as he told Keith to go get some rest. He reaches up and tugs Shiro’s hand away from his hair, instead bringing it in front of him and pressing a kiss against the knuckles.

“I’m glad I didn’t die,” Keith hovers above Shiro’s hand, lips brushing skin as he speaks. Shiro’s hand tenses, and Keith looks over his shoulder.

“I would have brought you back,” Shiro says, offering no further explanation. Keith wants to point out that they have proof of what happens when one tries to cheat death, but he knows that if Shiro ever gets struck down fatally, he will tear apart the fabric of reality to bring him home. They know this of each other.

Keith turns Shiro’s hand over and presses his thumbs over the lifeline on Shiro’s palm. He flattens his hand out over Shiro’s, lining up slender fingers against thicker ones. He slides them together, enjoying the friction before replacing his hand with a kiss against the flat of Shiro’s palm. He moves down to kiss the wrist, before placing another one at the tips of Shiro’s fingers.

“You really like them, huh?” Shiro asks and Keith nips the tip of his index finger in retort.

“No,” Keith says pointedly, and Shiro kicks a little, spraying water on Keith. Keith drops Shiro’s hand, and tries to retaliate with another splash. Shiro ducks, but misjudges himself and Keith twists to grab a hold of Shiro’s ankle. They freeze, Keith staring up at Shiro while Shiro stares back. Keith’s sure Shiro doesn’t want to walk back soaking wet, but the tension in Shiro’s shoulders no longer looks burdened. So Keith yanks.

Shiro yelps as he lands in the bath, water splashing everywhere. He emerges out, wet hair pressed against his forehead as he sputters and spits out water from his mouth. He slicks back his hair, expression slightly irritated.

Keith gets worried for a moment that maybe he’s overstepped, but Shiro takes a determined step back, before using his Galra hand to send a giant wave in Keith’s direction. Keith protests loudly, and charges Shiro. He manages to dunk him under water, but Shiro wrestles out from under his grasp and comes out of the water laughing.

“How the hell am I supposed to go back to our room?” Shiro asks, and Keith tries his best to look like he’s full of snark.

It’s hard, because Keith’s heart is swelling at the sight of Shiro, soaked and grinning and illuminated by a soft blue light, the water rippling around his hips as he stands up fully. He looks fractionally relaxed, and that’s more than any other time Keith’s seen him in the past few weeks.

“You should probably dry those,” Keith says, and Shiro rolls his eyes. He grabs the hem of his shirt and starts walking towards Keith as he starts peeling the soaking fabric off. He tosses it to the side and crowds Keith against the wall of the bath, close enough that Keith has to tilt his head up to make eye contact. 

He raises his hand and taps his fingers against the line of Keith’s mouth. Keith in turn tries to chase them, tries to bite them. Shiro presses his index and middle finger forward and Keith happily lets them in. He curls his tongue around them and draws back, before taking only the middle finger into his mouth. Shiro looks on in awe, eyes fixated on Keith working his fingers till Keith thinks he deserves something more.

“I think we should go back to our room,” Keith suggests, pulling Shiro’s hand away from his face. Instantly it lands on his hip and squeezes, and pulls them completely flush together. 

“Yeah?” Shiro asks lowly, and Keith nods and presses a kiss against the base of his throat.

“We should unwind,” Keith offers, and Shiro raises an eyebrow as he smiles. “It’s been a long day.”

Shiro opens his mouth to say something, but stops, contemplating it for a moment.  Keith looks at him questioningly. Shiro’s expression softens, and Keith’s about to ask him what’s happened when Shiro plants a hungry kiss on him. 

The ledge digs into Keith. He doesn’t care, because he can feel the love and yearning and gratefulness seep through the way Shiro moves his lips against his. He scratches his hands down Shiro’s back, and Shiro kisses him harder. They break apart briefly, and Keith can’t help but look at Shiro with deep-seated adoration. The stars twinkle beyond the window behind him, and Keith feels light.

 

* * *

 

By the time Shiro lands Black at the castle, he’s on the edge. It was supposed to be a short mission to collect resources from an allied planet; Hunk and him were supposed to be in and out with Black, aided by Keith and Coran in the control room.

Allura, Lance, and Pidge are on the planet, still playing diplomats. Their job has become considerably easier, because the reigning ruler of the region is desperately apologetic for forgetting to tell them about the giant air-born worms that like to shoot out of the ground, grab flying objects out of the air, and shake them like a baby rattle. They’re not malicious, but they are large in number, and they are a very painful nuisance.

Keith and Coran are waiting in the landing bay, and Keith looks nowhere as concerned as Shiro wants him to look. In fact, he’s smiling, as if watching giant, wrinkly worms toss Hunk and Shiro around like they’re nothing is great entertainment.

Hunk steps out first, and for the first time in ages, promptly throws up. Coran pats his back and tells Hunk a story about how this had once been a common Altean rite of passage, and Hunk grows greener as Coran offers more details. 

Shiro’s about to take his helmet off and shake the sweat out from his hair, but Keith stops him by cupping his face. 

“Nice job out there,” He says, and Shiro gives him a flat look.

“I’m glad you found it entertaining,” Shiro says and Keith laughs.

“I’m sorry,” He replied, voice indicating the complete opposite. “I’ll show you the video feed from the surveillance drone. It looks like you two were being thrown around by a giant di-“ 

“Finish that sentence,” Shiro threatens half-heartedly, and Keith gives him a shit-eating grin.

“It’s a good video,” He says and Shiro shakes his head. Keith leans forward and kisses Shiro’s visor. It’s a gesture that’s romantic in theory, but it looks kind of weird from within the helmet, and Shiro can’t help but snort. 

It’s Keith turn to narrow his eyes.

“You look weird,” Shiro offers, and he thinks that Keith’s going to bite back with something rude but—nope, Keith starts earnestly making out with Shiro’s helmet. He drags his mouth across it and flattens his nose, licking a long stripe against the surface. It’s disgusting, and Shiro tries his best not to laugh at how stupid Keith looks. 

“Get off me,” He says, trying to push Keith away from looking any more like a blobfish, but Keith plants his feet down and stands his ground.

“I thought you liked my mouth,” Keith says innocently, like he hasn’t slobbered all over Shiro’s helmet.

Shiro rolls his eyes and shoves a hand in Keith’s face, using it to push him off. Keith flails and tries to escape, but Shiro keeps the palm firmly in place.

“What?” He asks, tone matching Keith’s, and squeezes Keith’s cheeks. “I thought you liked my hands.”

Keith sputters, and Shiro finally lets him go with a laugh. Keith thumps him on the chest, and Shiro finally gets to pull his helmet off. Despite the romantic sound of Hunk still retching in the background and the attractive layer of sweat drying on Shiro’s face, Keith leans in to press a sincere kiss against the corner of his mouth.

Despite his best efforts to remain stoic, Shiro eventually breaks into a smile. He tries to hide it by shoving his helmet in Keith's arms and storming away, but from the echoing laughter, he knows it hasn't worked.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Dope by Jeremih & Shlomo
> 
> The extremely talented [hchano](http://hchano.tumblr.com) drew this [lovely and ethereal piece](http://hchanoookay.tumblr.com/post/178174048500/i-read-a-fic-by-phaltu-earlier-and-got-rly) for this work, please go shower both art and artist with lots of love <33
> 
> come say hi to me on tumblr at [@phaltu](https://phaltu.tumblr.com) !!!!


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